


Snuff

by Silivren



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Artistic Thor, Loki Angst, M/M, Odin's Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silivren/pseuds/Silivren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How can I make this easy? How can it be an easy thing to get over, when I’m still in love with you and I still treasure everything we shared - everything which you now look on with shame?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A story with the plot based on the lyrics of Slipknot's 'Snuff', which can be found [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/slipknot/snuff.html)  
> Because to me this song screams torn up Thorki and I couldn't resist writing it.  
> Basically a big ball of angst.

He remembers the day, the day he was sitting there, in his room, fists clenched and an angry lump in his throat. The door opened soundlessly. He didn’t look up. He didn’t dare look to see who had come for him. He didn’t care.

He remembers an arm snaking its way around him. It was warm, impossibly warm and comforting, but he didn’t care. He was pulled close into warm leather, a musky, homely smell entering his nose. A hand stroked through his hair, calming him down in a way he wished he could fight. _I don’t want to care! I don’t want to not be angry!_

   He remembers a hand tilting his chin up so they had to look eye to eye. Rough fingers smoothing away tears he didn’t realise had fallen. His hands shook, fighting to rise up themselves and weave into silky gold. The sudden urge to speak - to explain, to apologise.

“I-I am-”

“Hush. No words.”

He remembers being dragged closer, impossibly close, until he thought he could no longer breathe. And he remembers them both leaning in at the same time for a sweet collision of lips, all innocence and confusion and magic.

*

The next few weeks are the best of Loki’s life. He’s never felt so golden, so warm and happy inside, so special. Every day he goes to his University; every day he gets a step further through his thesis. And every day afterwards he hurries home, to where he knows the one he adores is waiting.

He rushes in through the door, bag swinging behind him, thudding against his thigh as he hurries down the hall into the kitchen. The garage is empty - he sees it from the window. _Good,_ he thinks, _Father and Mother aren’t back yet._ He slings his bag on the abused and faded sofa, right next to the spot that’s almost carved into the cushions where their father always sits. Running up the stairs two at a time, he sneaks into the small bedroom, opening the door silently.

The blond head is hunched over, right hand carefully sketching out a design on scrap paper, Google Images open on the desktop before him. Loki wraps an arm around the head, one hand covering the eyes as he leans in close to whisper, “Guess who.”

He is answered by a chuckle, a deep rumble that vibrates through both of them simultaneously. Thor turns around to look at his brother, a smile lighting up his face as he prises the hands off his eyes. He silently holds up the sketch, a delicate knot of lines surrounding a brilliant star.

“It’s beautiful,” Loki says, taking the paper in his hands to examine it further. Amongst the intricate swirls are runes, a trademark of all Thor’s designs, featured in everything since he learnt to write in Norse letters at the age of seventeen.

“Not as much as you,” his brother replies, pulling Loki onto his lap. The younger man smiles bashfully, batting Thor’s nose with his finger.

“Oh you,” he sighs, placing a kiss on the spot he’s just prodded. “When are they coming back?”

“About six. The train arrives at the station at half five, but there’s been delays because of an ‘accident’.” Thor looks dark for a moment, and they both know he’s thinking of the time they’d been summoned to the hospital, only to receive the grim news that it was too late, that he stepped on the live rail, and Balder would never be waking up again.

“Two hours. Two hours of just us. How about we go for a walk?” Loki asks, looking hopeful.

Thor nods vaguely, turning back to his computer. “I have to get these designs done for tomorrow...If you bear with me for just ten minutes, and then I have an idea.”

Loki moves over to the bed, taking out a notebook and writing down ideas for the next chapter of his project while Thor finishes off. He becomes engrossed quickly, so it comes as a surprise when he is pulled down onto his side on the narrow single and cuddled close, one hand stroking down his back.

“Someone’s in a strange mood today,” he comments, softly kissing the lips before him. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” Thor muses, looking away a moment. “Some git came in asking for a tat of his girlfriend’s ass on his chest. I said even we have limits, and he starts swearing at me, waving his bottle around and everything. Dave had to escort him out in the end, although chuck is more like the right term.”

“Sounds fun, but that doesn’t explain much,” Loki says, catching his brother’s eye briefly. “What else?”

“Oh, I have loads of things to do tonight, and I really just want to savour the time with you before _they_ get back.” Thor’s hands work their way down Loki’s body, up and down, up and down.

“Why don’t we go out then? That way we can gain an extra hour, if we say I had a lecture or something, and we decided to catch a bite at Burger King afterwards.” He pleads with his eyes, worried about his brother’s unusually pensive state.

“That could work,” Thor says, sitting them up. “I have an idea. A present for you, of sorts. I don’t think we have time today though.” He kisses Loki gently, moving to grab his keys while keeping an arm around his brother’s waist. They lock the door behind them, leaving a note on the coffee table saying where they’d gone.

It’s nearly nine by the time they return, laughing and stumbling into one another. Both their parents are in the living room, the door shut and the TV blasting. The pair steal their way up the stairs, hands entwined, into Loki’s room where they collapse on the bed.

“Shh, Thor, they might hear,” Loki giggles, not really caring but for the nagging feeling in the back of their mind that they only managed to get away with this so far because the day following that special first moment after he’d found out he was adopted, and they had kept it from him until he was twenty-two, both Odin and Frigga had gone away on a cruise to the Caribbean.

“I don’t care; do you? I love you,” his brother replies, shutting him up with a kiss before turning him onto his back to tickle him all over. Loki squeals, biting his fist to try and keep quiet, but knowing with the TV on that loud that he can hear the smooth tones of Stephen Fry’s voice from two floors away they won’t be noticed.

After a few minutes though their courage fails them, and they fall silent, instead just resting, curled up together.

“You’d better go,” Loki says, reluctance heavy in his tone.

“Do I have to?” Thor whinges, nose brushing the nape of Loki’s neck.

“They’ll come up once QI’s over. They’ll notice you’re not in your room. They’ll find us.”

“Let them. What can they do? We’re both adults, both with our own lives. They can’t touch us.”

“They can kick us out,” Loki says. He agrees with Thor completely, but he is also painfully aware that while they still live under Odin’s roof they will have to abide by his rules. He’s pretty sure being in a relationship, if that’s what it could be called, with his adopted brother is not one of them.

“We’ll buy a flat,” Thor responds, almost as if he’s practised this argument many times over in his head. Which he probably has.

“They’ll disown us.”

“We don’t need them anymore. We have each other.”

But he sees that his brother is right, and once the distant vibrations of the TV are gone Thor climbs out of the bed and slinks into his own room. Loki hears a few scattered words of conversation between his mother and brother, and then silence as the house goes to sleep. He smiles to himself.

Two days later is a Saturday, and Odin goes to play golf. Frigga is following up on some important emails she missed while on holiday, so Thor seizes the chance to give his brother his ‘present’. Loki is dragged out of the door with no explanations, onto the 75 bus to the town centre and then round to ‘Titanium’, the tattoo and piercing parlour where Thor works full time.

Cara, the girl with wispy black hair and cobwebs covering her skin, smiles at him as he drags his brother past the desk and into the back room.

“Please tell me you’re not going to give me a nose ring or something,” Loki groans, knowing how much Thor loves bizarre piercings - it was why he’d got the job there in the first place, that, and his incredible skill with designing and creating tattoos.

“Nothing as crude as that, but you can have a tongue stud thrown in if you want,” Thor laughs, catching Loki’s eye roll.

“I will _not_ have my tongue splitting. That is disgusting.”

“I’m giving you a tattoo, silly. It’s my own design; I did it on Friday night when you were studying. It’s a surprise though, so now is your chance to decide whether or not you trust me: yea or nay?”

Loki pauses. A tattoo is a big thing. _Does_ he trust Thor enough? _Yes,_ is the instant reply. “Go on then. Do it.”

Thor grins, getting Loki to lie down on the large black leather chair and hitch up his t-shirt so the small of his back is exposed. It tickles as the purple fineliner brushes over his skin, marking out the places to be inked. They stay silent, the only sound the buzz of the needle as it fills over the lines. It hurts, but Loki is distracted by his brother’s face, or what of it he can see from his awkward angle. The look of pure concentration as he works his design is beautiful, and Loki wishes he could capture it forever.

The noise stops, and the silence presses down on them until Thor stands up, offering his brother a hand. He gets a pair of mirrors and angles them so Loki can see his handiwork. His mouth falls open. Between the back of his hipbones sits the word ‘Thor’ in sleek letters, knot work weaving in and out around them. Above the name is a strange character that fits in perfectly and Loki recognises it as a Norse rune.

“It’s the symbol for love, because I’ll love you forever,” he explains, and Loki practically jumps into his arms, smothering him in kisses and ‘thank you’s.

They walk most of the way home hand in hand, breaking apart only at the end of their street because in that vicinity people are likely to know about the other side of their relationship, the one that makes it infinitely darker than their public face of just a couple of guys in love with each other. Even Thor’s work don’t know the slender dark haired man who sometimes comes to pick him up is the same person as his ‘super-smart and pain-in-the-ass’ younger brother.

Once they get inside, they are greeted with a light lunch round the table, in which their parents tell them everything about their trip and Frigga insists they look at the three wallets of photos she’s just got developed that morning.

It’s two o’clock when they’re free again, and they both go to Loki’s room because it’s farther away and you can pull the ladder up so no-one can get to you. The younger man is examining his new inks in the mirror while Thor gazes at him from the bed. Slowly, he beckons Loki over with one hand, and his brother obeys. Thor gets him to lie down and inspects his masterpiece, bending over to dust the spot with the love rune on it with his lips, soft and gentle. Loki grins, seeing where he’s going, and pulls his brother close, relishing in the sensitive tingle he feels whenever a hand brushes that fresh mark, the one place where they are open to one another; the part of Loki’s skin where their secrets will be buried forever.

*

Loki never asked. They stayed another month in bliss, and all the while it seemed Thor’s adoration grew; whenever they were alone he would seize the opportunity to admire the tattoo, gently feeling it with his fingers or kissing it. It set Loki’s soul on fire. Once, he asked why Thor never got one himself, that way they could match. He said he didn’t care for that kind of thing on his own skin, and no-one would be able to mark it on him with the same love and devotion as he did to Loki.

Loki never thought it would be because it was going to end. And the worst part was that Thor knew it _would_ , and he still carried on like they had forever.

He can hear it now - the sounds of his brother talking softly with her. They giggle, and then there are _other_ sounds as they begin to kiss, and Loki feels like there are shards of glass sticking into him. He thinks back to the last day. Thor had woken up looking rotten, his eyes puffy, and Loki had slid under the covers with him in an attempt to make the difficult morning easier. Instead he’d been shoved away. It hurt, being tossed out onto that cold, worn carpet floor, but more inside than the bruises on his hip and shoulder from the landing.

“What’s wrong? What have I done?” he’d asked, unable to hide the fear in is voice.

“It’s...it’s not something you’ve _done_ as such,” Thor had begun, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s more...I don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”

Loki’s heart stopped. He looked over at his brother, utter confusion on his face. “...What?” he whispered, hoping he’d misheard.

“I-I just think, that we shouldn’t be doing this. Being together. Our whole relationship is based on hiding and lies, and I can’t live comfortably with the knowledge that if we let our guard down for even one _moment_ , everything will be over. Loving someone should be a joy, not a burden, and all this hiding in the dark is for a reason. What we’re doing is wrong.”

He didn’t know what to say. It was like all the breath had been sucked out of his body, and he was left, clawing for air from someone who would never give it to him, but was letting him beg anyway because they didn’t have the heart to end his suffering. “ _Wrong?_ How is it _wrong_ , when we love each other?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake Loki, we’re _brothers_! It can’t _not_ be wrong! We’ve hit rock bottom; there’s no kind of sordid relations that could _ever_ be worse than what we’ve done. We need to stop, to go back to being innocent people before it’s too late,” Thor cried, sitting up and leaning against the wall.

“Is that what you think? This - _everything_ we shared - is all some kind of _sick_ problem we have? Is that it?” Loki seethed. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe Thor was saying this now.

His brother took a deep breath, his entire body shuddering. “...Yes, that is what I’m saying,” he eventually got out. In his heart he knew it was a lie, but it would be better to end it all, to suppress anything more deep down until it could no longer disturb them any further. Loki was silent, taking in everything with careful analysis, trying to determine whether he was being lied to or not. Thor hoped his voice was convincing enough. There was a long pause, then eventually Loki whispered,

“And what about the tattoo?”

Thor stilled - he’d forgotten.

“This is why you said no, isn’t it? This is why you made me get it, and adored it, but never got your own. Because that way all your desperate, filthy thoughts about me could be buried somewhere where _you_ wouldn’t have to face them again, and once you had the courage you could run away, feigning innocence and leaving me behind, marked with your sins. It wasn’t a present, a gift of love, it was an act of pure _selfishness_ ; you hide your perversion in me and then it’s no longer your problem, but mine. You claim me as your own and then discard me because you _can._ Am I _nothing_ to you, no more than a plaything?”

“Loki, no that’s not-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Thor. Go on, leave. Run away while you can. It’s OK; I’ll take the blame for both of us. _Go._ ” Loki stormed back to his room, pulling up the ladder and putting on his headphones at top volume. It wasn’t loud enough. He still heard the slam of the door two floors away as Thor left the house.

*

It’s hard to breathe in his attic room - the air seems thick, grating his lungs as he tries to drag it in and out again. It’s like he’s drowning, falling forever with no hope of salvation and no strength to kick up to freedom. The room seems to shrink around him, walls covered in posters and photos with dog-eared edges pressing down, trapping him in a claustrophobic nightmare.

One particular picture catches his eye - of him and Thor together, cuddled up on a park bench in their huge winter coats. It’d been taken by Sif, Thor’s best female friend, the Christmas after Balder’s death: before they were ‘together’, but when they’d begun to grow to a level of closeness that was bordering on unhealthy. Sif hadn’t known they were brothers: none of their friends did. It was easier to lie about that than to hide their relationship from everyone. The memory makes him want to smile, but his lips stay set in the firm line they’ve been in for the past three days.

He hears the front door close and heavy footsteps going into the room below him. The bang as the bedside table is knocked over. The muffled curse, and then unintelligible muttering that Loki desperately wants to understand. He wants to climb down, to talk to his brother, even if they just end up shouting, because anything, _anything_ is better than this endless silence, the enormous chasm between them only widening.

He tries to sit up but the effort burns his lungs - it feels like he’s breathing sand and he can’t bear to move from where he lays, crumpled in a heap on the bed and unable to escape the cage his room, _the air_ around him has become.

He hears the call for dinner and it gives him a reason to get out of there, even if it takes forever to just _remember_ how to open the hatch and slide the ladder down so he can leave. The brightness of the landing makes him squint, and he stumbles down the stairs carefully, composing the bland mask he wears every mealtime, every time he has to be in the same room as Thor.

They eat in silence, the two brothers not looking at one another but uncannily aware of the other’s presence. Once pudding is finished Loki slinks away, the sudden freedom becoming too much, desperate to return to the confines of his bedroom-cell but at the same time terrified that this time he _won’t_ be able to escape.

“Loki, you’ve done nothing all day but sit in your room. At least contribute to our family life by washing up,” Odin says, staring at him hard from over his evening paper. “And since you haven’t spoken to your brother at all for days, he will dry and you can sort out whatever nonsense has come between you.”

The mug Thor is drinking from shatters in his hand, and he quickly makes for the dustpan and brush to sweep up the shards. He pulls a post-it out his pocket and scribbles down a word - another thing on the list of objects he’s broken since he called ‘it’ off.

Loki fills the sink in silence, suddenly fascinated by the splash guard on the wall. He piles the bowl up with plates and cutlery, scrubbing away the dried on gravy with a sponge. He puts the first plate on the draining board and Thor picks it up, careful to ensure their fingers don’t touch in the transfer. He dries it and stacks it away in the cupboard.

When it comes to the saucepan, which is harder to manoeuvre, Loki is purposely careless, pretending to let it slip from his grasp so they could both reach for it together. Thor stiffens when Loki’s slippery fingers grab his, a blush creeping up his neck. He pulls away in disgust, other hand drying with such force he’ll probably wear away the plating.

“So it _does_ bother you,” Loki murmurs, watching every slight move his brother makes with the scrutiny of a hawk.

“Of course it does,” Thor hisses. “How can I not be bothered when every day I have to face you, every day I have to pretend that you’re my brother and I love you, and every day I’m just _angry_ that we let it go so far, and now we can do nothing but ignore one another.”

“You’re angry because we can’t speak to each other, or you’re angry because you started a relationship you knew you wouldn’t want to keep but you did anyway because you felt like it wouldn’t matter once it was over, because you only care about _you_ and how it affected me doesn’t count.”

“I’m angry because you’re not making this any easier,” Thor says, the vein in his forehead pulsing with rage as he tries not to break the bowl he’s holding.

“ _How_ can I make this easy? How can it be an easy thing to get over, when I’m still in love with you and I still _treasure_ everything we shared - everything which you now look on with shame? What do you want me to do, leave? Because if you think _you_ don’t have it easy, then try waking up every morning and aching, _aching_ to go to the person you love and stop them hurting, only to find they don’t want you, and wondering if you _actually_ love them, or whether it’s just some facade, some camouflage for a deep-rooted anger at the world that forced you to lash out to them in the most painful way you can. Because I don’t _know_ if I love you any more, Thor, as a partner or a brother or _whatever_ I’m supposed to be, or whether I just made up half of the relationship because I was angry at everything, especially you, and I wanted to hurt you in the worst way I could.” He sighs, slumping down to lean against the door of the fridge and cupping his hands over his nose and mouth. Thor just finishes his drying and leaves, but not before he takes the tips of Loki’s fingers in his hand and squeezes them, ever so slightly, in some kind of apology or forgiveness.

*

Thor wakes up the next morning to find the house silent - an unusual occurrence on a Tuesday morning. Normally, Loki is rushing his breakfast and hurrying off to Uni; Frigga is worrying because one of her clients cancelled short notice _again_ and Odin is still looking for a publisher.

Having a lawyer for a mother and a writer for a father isn’t easy - both can get temperamental at the drop of a hat because they work in sectors which pay well, but good opportunities are few and far between, so Thor is glad that he actually has a steady job that also allows him to be who he is.

But today it is quiet, and he doesn’t know why. He goes down the stairs and into the kitchen, looking for the tell-tale signs of a usual morning. The table is empty. He opens the side cupboard where Loki keeps his bowl and cereal, but they’re still there. He hurries back up to find the attic hatch open. Thor climbs up the ladder and into his brother’s darkened lair. The blind is still shut, the duvet half hanging on the floor. Most of the beautiful posters Loki treasured are lying torn on the floor. The photos are also scattered, like fallen autumn leaves. He picks them up and counts them. Fifty-six photographs. That means one is missing.

He checks through them, each one familiar, wracking his memory for the missing image. He sees a shred of plain paper lying beneath his leg where he sank to the floor and inspects it. It’s the corner of the design he was drawing, that night when their parents returned. He can just make out the edge of the star, but the rest of the image is missing. It comes to him then - the photo that’s gone is the one Sif took, after Balder had died: the one of the two of them, cuddled up close on the bench at Christmas.

Thor takes out his mobile and sees he has three texts waiting for him. The first is from his mother, saying she had to go to the office early and she’ll be home by eleven. The second is from Orange, reminding him he’s out of internet for the rest of the month. The last one is from Loki - two short lines.

_If you love me, if you_ ever _loved me, let me go._

_And run away before I know._

He flings the phone across the floor, the torn drawing crumpling in his fist. He has no idea whether his brother is _actually_ gone, or if he’s just off to Uni early. But the meaning is clear. He packs a bag of his essentials and vanishes for the remainder of the week.

*

When Loki returns he finds that someone has been in his room. The pictures he tore off his walls the night before have been moved into a pile and there is a crumpled up piece of paper on his bed. He hesitantly goes into Thor’s room, to find his brother’s pencil case, sketch book, rucksack and favourite hoodie are missing. _So he left then._ He nods to himself, climbing back up the ladder and shutting the hatch, plunging himself into a dim cage of shredded memories and hate.

*

When Thor doesn’t come back for three nights running, his parents begin to make the worried phone calls. Frigga does it first, asking him if he’s all right, and when he will be coming home. Loki doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Odin tries the next one; his requests are less gentle, demanding his son to return and sort out whatever is going on. Loki may be hidden away in his attic, but when Odin is angry on the phone it’s hard not to hear his side of the conversation.

“Where on _earth_ are you?” A pause. “Well then get yourself back here _right now_ young man, and don’t go running off to her house for days on end without telling us!...No, I don’t _care_ if you don’t want to come home. I am your father, and you will do as I say! You come home, and you tell me _everything_!” There is a low buzz as Loki presumes Thor splutters down the line, trying to justify his actions and avoid a return. “We will not be discussing this over the phone!” Odin roars. He slams the receiver down and marches to the living room.

An hour and a half later the front door clicks open. There is the faint sound of talking, and then raised voices. Loki stays where he is, just listening, hoping that Thor lies, that he doesn’t give them away because then Loki would lose the only thing they still share that could be considered as happy. But he doesn’t really care. There is a knock on his hatch, but he ignores it.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice travels through the wood. He goes rigid, acutely aware that his heart is hammering in his chest, reverberating around the whole room. “I’ve spoken to Father. I didn’t tell him everything, but there were some things he had to-”

There is a creak as the door opens. Loki stays out of sight, but he can still hear and be heard. “You didn’t have to tell him anything,” he hisses.

“There are some times when I can’t _not_ tell him. You know when he demands to know something, how hard it is to-”

“Stop. Just, please, stop. I don’t care what you said; I don’t care where we stand any more. You’ve already chewed me up and spat me out, and my heart has been blackened by your selfishness. If you want to preserve your dignity, then do what I know you will and _go._ I know you’re scared of me, and if you want to keep your innocence just leave. I can’t destroy you any further if you aren’t there to mar.”

He sees Thor nod, turn away and vanish again. This time it’s for good.

*

A month passes, then two, and still Thor doesn’t come back. Loki thought it would get easier, but instead all he feels is a sort of numbness inside, a hollow where his brother used to be. He figures it’s his fate to be unhappy - he’s been that way most of his life, never fitting in with his family much, always bullied in his younger years to the point where he completely withdrew from all forms of social contact at age ten. Teenage sort of drifted past as he tried to untangle who he was whilst being surrounded by pressures to focus on other things, never allowed a moment to himself. He entered adulthood a confused and lonely person desperate for some stability in his life.

And then he found out he was adopted, and the only part of him he felt would never change was suddenly torn apart and he was lost. For a brief moment he had a snatch of sunlight, but even that was stripped away until he was left, terrified and shivering in the dark.

He decides it s better this way though. He should have never let himself get that close, never let anyone touch his heart that way, because if he’s alone in the world he doesn’t have to live through this angry darkness, if he’s alone he can’t hate anything like he does.

His parents often go to visit Thor in his girlfriend’s house, always chivvying Loki to come, but he feigns sickness or pretends to have important coursework to do because he can’t face going anywhere with them, never mind to where _he_ is. Loki’s taken to skipping Uni at least once a week now. He always goes in to get the work from his professors the following day, and never misses a lecture, but he just can’t be around other people any more. It makes him feel physically sick. It’s like he can feel them, watching him and judging him, like they know what he did. If he’s alone he can forget them. He slips into the background, no longer one of the brilliant students used as a paradigm for the rest of the group.

Frigga gets worried because he never eats with them anymore; he barely even sees them, because he is either out or shut up in his room. She tries to talk to him but he doesn’t respond because he hates them, all of them, and above all he hates himself, but if he’s alone he doesn’t have to feel that and it’s the only thing that keeps him going - those sweet moments of tortured bliss that is _forgetting_.

Odin wants to get him seen and Frigga agrees. They send him to a counsellor who asks him lots of questions about his childhood. He decides he’s had enough when they’ve delved through teenage and asks to go to the toilet. Once he’s in there he hastily climbs out the back window and runs home. The house is empty but not for long: sooner or later his parents will find that the psychiatrist isn’t keeping him in overtime and that he’s vanished, and then he will be greeted by Odin’s wrath and Frigga’s more passive emotional blackmail.

*

A week after his visit to the doctor he gets home to find a letter on his bed. The handwriting is Thor’s, so he automatically rips it in half and throws it away, feeling greatly dissatisfied because it only floats to the floor gracefully, a sickening mirror of the own grace he used to possess before his entire world turned to ash.

He lies on the bed for an hour in the dark, only the wan green glow of his alarm clock giving any sense of passing time. Eventually he sits up, gathering up the two halves of the letter and pulling them out the torn envelope. He puts them together to read a brief note with more crossings out than intended words.

_Dear Loki,_

_~~Where do I start? I drew you these~~ _ _I know it isn’t much, but I don’t think you’ll want much from me, if anything. ~~I hope you have a~~  Just to wish you a happy birthday. I didn’t want ~~our relationship~~ things between us to be like this, ~~but I was scared and confused and I~~ I really didn’t. Mother told me about your...I don’t know what to call it - depression? Behaviour? If it helps, I’m sorry. ~~I miss you, brother.~~ I hope you believe me._

_Thor_

With it comes three drawings. One is the original sketch for his tattoo, which he’s torn up by accident along with the letter and envelope. Another is a sketch of the five of them at Christmas all gathered around the tree, two years before Balder’s death. Thor had been nineteen, Loki just past his eighteenth birthday. He was in the middle, a Santa hat flopping over his head and his legs buried in presents. Frigga had a halo on, Odin a crown made of cardboard and spray-painted pasta that Thor had made in year two. The remaining brothers were both sporting antlers on headbands, arms slung casually around one another’s shoulders and lazy grins on their faces. It makes Loki’s heart clench.

The final drawing is of something he’s never seen before, but is also as familiar to him as his own reflection. He holds it next to the two halves of his own tattoo design, eyes widening. They are identical, except this one has the rune in green instead of red, and the letters read his name.

The bottom drops out of Loki’s world. He flips it over to look for a date. His own picture has 25/7 written on it, the day before he’d got it done. Thor’s one reads 6/8. _He designed it! He was going to...going to..._ Angry tears spill down his face and he casts the picture away, afraid of ruining it. He doesn’t know what to feel. He wants to be angry - how _dare_ Thor not tell him of this, how _dare_ he keep such a crucial thing hidden until it’s too late. But instead he just feels infinite guilt, because every dark thought he’d conjured up about his brother to turn the pain of separation into rage, something he thought he would have better luck controlling, suddenly comes back to haunt him. _I was wrong, I was wrong. He’s just...so-so_ Thor _, even now, even after everything I’ve done, he’s still trying to make me happy. He’s only ever been kind to me, and I don’t deserve that._

*

It’s the run up to Christmas, and the house is buzzing. Frigga has thrown a party for all their friends, and Loki can hear them all downstairs, chatting idly about what the other guests are wearing and how good the food is. He stays in the attic because there are too many people down there, and his irrational fear of other people has only grown, to the point where he can barely talk to anyone aside from his parents anymore; not even his teachers or people behind the counters in shops.

There is a booming laugh as Odin tells his finest joke to his friends from the pub and they all clink glasses. A knock on the hatch grabs his attention and he opens it to find his mother looking up at him.

“Loki, dear, why don’t you come downstairs and join the fun? Just for a few minutes?” She suspects it’s a lost cause, but she can only try.

His throat feels like sandpaper, and it takes a painful amount of effort to rattle out, “I can’t Mother, you know I can’t.” _They’ll talk to me, ask me how I am, ask me about my degree, and I won’t be able to answer. Then, when I’m gone, they’ll talk_ about _me, about how sad it is that I’m so socially inept, and how it all started when Thor stormed out that day. They’ll talk about how I always was a funny one, and too clingy to my brother, especially when we all found out I’m adopted._ “They’ll want to-to...I...” he stammers, trying to swallow the lump in his throat that he always gets now when he’s threatened with conversation.

“OK, I understand. I just thought I’d ask,” she says gently, sweeping back down to lose herself in the gossip.

At nine o’clock, the doorbell goes again and there is a hush of surprise - who’s arriving this late, when a good part of the fun has already happened? A shriek slices through the air and then hysterical laughter, shortly followed by an explosion of voices. Loki strains to catch the name of the new arrival, but whoever it is is causing everyone to talk at once and he can’t make anything out clearly.

He tells himself he doesn’t care really, it’s probably just one of Frigga’s more famous friends that hasn’t been seen for a while. But curiosity gets the better of him and he slinks down the ladder to the top of the stairs. No-one can see him because there is a half-flight, then a small landing, and the stairs to the hall go down in the opposite direction. His throat begins to itch with thirst, so he goes to the bathroom but there’s no glass.

_Damn! And I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go down there at all..._ He tries to ignore it, but soon it’s unbearable and he has to bite the bullet. Straightening out his collar he quietly descends, hoping he can slip into the kitchen and back again unnoticed. He stops on the landing, debating whether or not he actually has the courage to turn the corner. He does, and as soon as he can see the room below he spots his mother. She looks up at just the right moment to see him, and he calls out to get her to come closer, glad that he won’t actually have to go down after all. Her face lights up.

“Loki! You are joining us after all!”

Heads turn to look in his direction and he freezes, wishing he could just vanish into thin air. He recognises few of them, but that could be because their faces are swimming in and out of focus as it gets harder and harder to breathe.

“Loki is here?” one person says, and he watches with despair as the voice’s owner turns to follow everyone’s gaze, because he recognises that tone, would know it anywhere.

Thor’s eyes widen at the sight of his brother. His usually silky black hair is matted and messy, like it hasn’t been thought about for days, _weeks_ even. He is wearing a pair of dirty black jeans and a baggy t-shirt that used to fit him perfectly. His eyes are dull, their clarity lost and beneath them are two purple thumbprints that stand out against his pale skin. He looks like a ghost, the shadow of the sly and devious young man he used to be, and it makes Thor want to run to him, to hold him and make it all better, but he can’t. Their eyes meet, and Thor hopes he can put all the pain and guilt and regret he feels into his stare in an attempt at helping, but it is pointless because there is no soul inside the dark green gaze to receive his apology.

Loki moves to turn away, deciding that he’d rather endure a lifetime of thirst than stay on that spot, but he is called back by Frigga. “Don’t you even have a smile for your brother?” she asks, visibly hurt, and her eyes flick towards the pile of bags by the door. Loki follows her glance and he sags against the set of drawers on the landing. Thor is staying for the night, if not longer.

He stumbles back up the stairs but doesn’t have the energy to go to the attic, so instead he curls up into a ball on the floor, shaking with pain.

*

It’s two in the morning by the time the last guest leaves, and Thor stays to help his parents tidy up after everything before taking his bags up to his room. He nearly trips over his brother who is still lying at the foot of the ladder in a restless sleep. He scoops Loki up and plops him in his own bed, throat closing up in sadness as he realises just how light his brother has become.

As soon as he’s set down Loki wakes up, scrabbling around for a sense of location and stiffening when he realises where he is. Thor is unpacking by his computer and Loki hopes he can slip away unnoticed, but just as he gets to the threshold he’s faced with a gentle blue look.

“So, do I get that smile then? Or at least a hello,” Thor says, trying not to wince because Loki is trying to escape.

It takes a long time for him to find his voice, and Thor realises Odin wasn’t kidding when he said his brother is practically dumb now, but Loki eventually scrapes out a harsh whisper. “My smiles ended long ago, _Thor,_ ” and the name seems to stick in his windpipe like mucus. “And I don’t want to know if I’ll ever change back.”

And it’s true, he doesn’t want to know if he can change, because that would mean that he _still_ couldn’t control a thing about his life, and it may be the most tormenting thing, but at least if he stays in this black hole of despair then he knows where he stands, and that is an almost cheering thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Thor comes and goes now, flitting uncertainly between two centres of being that are his home and his girlfriend’s house. He gets lonely when he’s away, despite her best efforts, so he comes back. He never stays for long though - that house makes him restless and it’s too full of memories so get comfortable in.

Frigga and Odin carry on with their lives, seeing any attempts at saving their son a lost cause. The week after the party when Thor stayed, to celebrate Christmas with his family, is the longest of Loki’s life and he barely emerges from his room except to smuggle more bread and biscuits and water upstairs. It’s like he’s not really there, which is just how he likes it. He too finds the whole place too full of memories to be happy in, but instead of running away he chooses to hide among them, lost in the past.

Every now and then he goes through all the photos he has of him and Thor, some of them with friends, some of them alone, but always the last one is the one of them on the bench, smiles glowing on both their faces. After he’s stared at it for a while he takes out his ‘birthday present’ from the box under his bed and reads the words over and over, each time getting closer to figuring out what is scribbled over. And then he looks at the drawings, bringing each one up to his lips, torturing himself with the feel of them, and how much he wishes it was not tattered paper he’s kissing, but another set of lips so warm and inviting and wonderful.

Some mornings, especially ones where Thor is staying, he thinks about throwing them out, but he can never do it, because he secretly cherishes each token like he does every memory. He tries to avoid his brother at all costs, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from just _looking_ down at him, and it’s usually just after he’s looked over his precious mementos, and _aching_ for him, because even now, after all this time he’s still in love with Thor and he still savours every moment, every kiss he got from him.

It’s dark where he is, but it’s all right, because it’s not pitch anymore, it doesn’t press so hard because he’s found little chinks of light. Loki hates it when Thor’s home, because it means he actually _cannot_ leave the attic for fear of bumping into him, but he also loves it, craves it even because even from afar his brother is still the light in his life. He couldn’t face the new sunrise without him.

Loki knows that these slivers of sun through the floorboards are nothing compared to the blazing glow that _is_ when they were together, but it’s futile to hope for anything of that scale, because it was all ripped apart when his brother refused to keep fighting for them, refused to keep trying for them.

He watches Thor amble across the landing, groggy from the late night, and smiles sadly. _I miss you too,_ he thinks, the letter sitting in his hand. He’s in a lighter mood today, happy with the memories he’s just been through, and now is just content to watch his brother from above. Thor pulls his hoodie on, the red one that he wore when he gave Loki his tattoo, and the spot itches at the thought. He rubs it idly, staring in a sort of daze out of the hatch.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Loki knows this brief bubble of peace won’t last, but he doesn’t expect it to break in the way it does. Thor looks up at just the wrong moment, to catch the dull gleam of green eyes surrounded by shadow and he turns, making for the ladder. Loki starts like a frightened rabbit but it’s too late to pull the ladder away because Thor is already putting one foot on it.

“Hey,” he says softly, offering the kindest of smiles. Thor winces as Loki’s face twists up in anger, his previous serenity lost like so much else of him. Still, Thor tries. “Hey, why don’t you come down?”

Loki pushes himself away, trying to stop himself from crushing the letter in his movements. He has to stop this; he can’t face his brother, not now, not like this.

“OK, you don’t have to,” Thor continues, and every syllable, every vibration of his vocal chords cuts through Loki like glass, because his brother’s voice is so gentle and soothing and he can’t _bear_ it any longer, because it makes his heart break again and again.

Thor sees it’s a lost cause, but something stops him from giving up. Maybe it’s the tiny part of him that still loves Loki, that still yearns for him and every waking moment fights for dominance over the rationality that made him call off their relationship. Maybe it’s because he feels some kind of responsibility that he should help Loki, because how could anyone _not_ want to comfort and support someone so ruined?

“If you want...I can go. But-but...Loki, if it helps at all...if it means _anything_ , then I-I do still love you, very much, and I never meant to upset you in any way, and if there’s anything, _anything_ I can do, then just name it,” he tries. He sees Loki’s throat work, swallowing over and over, like he has to do now if he wants to say something, and Thor sits patiently on the second rung while his brother finds his voice.

“...Save your breath,” he hisses; Thor’s suspicions are confirmed - his words have fallen on not deaf ears as such, because that would imply that they had no choice in whether they listen or not, but ears that _refuse_ to hear. He nods, smile fading from his eyes to leave his lips in a tight line that reveals all the strain he’s going through because of this. He steps down but is called back by a sharp intake of breath.

“I think I make it very clear that I want _nothing_ from you,” Loki says, and Thor feels the stressed word stab him - he knows Loki still wants everything from him: why else would he keep watching him, keep reading his letter, keep loving him? “And _you_ made it clear that you no longer want to give me anything _that day_. You can say you did it for the best, because what we were doing is unnatural and wrong and _sick_ , but I know the real reason is because you were always too _kind_ ,” he spits the word with a ferocity Thor didn’t know was still left in him, hollow shell that he is. “You were worried what other people would think, because if they found out you wouldn’t have it in you to disagree with their prejudices. You wouldn’t be able to push them aside and hate them to continue loving me. You would have to give their opinions equal consideration along with your feelings for me, even if their words were made with no understanding of where we stood, even if they, with their stuck up, closed minds could never _fathom_ what we were, because that’s what you do, and in the end you would side with the majority and choose society. You never had the capacity to reject others and fight for what you believed in. _You couldn’t hate enough to love me._ How was I supposed to cope with that? How was I supposed to go back to what I was, when I only wanted more? How was simple, brotherly love supposed to be enough when I loved you - hell, _I love you_ \- so much more than that? _How?_ ”

He his shaking, chest heaving up and down in huge, ragged breaths as he tries to cope with the sudden explosion of feelings he has inside him. He gropes for the glass of water and downs what’s left in one, mouth and throat burning with the effort of saying so much after months of near-complete silence.

Thor looks stricken, and hurries away to his room. Loki pulls the ladder up and shuts the hatch, headphones on again so he can block out the sound of broken tears below him.

*

After the argument, Loki finds himself regretting every word. So much so that he actually seeks his brother out after Uni one day and apologises. Thor graciously accepts, but looks uncomfortable throughout the entire conversation so Loki decides that further talk is pointless. Upstairs he sits, seething. He was _trying_ , wasn’t he? He had tried harder than ever that day to make things better. He’d initiated a conversation, left the house for more than five minutes and had also eaten dinner with the family. Yet none of them seemed to treat it as unusual. It left him wondering if they actually wanted him to heal himself or not.

The worst part is that their indifference sets off his anger again, and he wants to hurry back down there and shout at them over and over, about anything and everything until they either kick him out or help him. Loki sits on the edge of the hatch, legs dangling over the hole, feet brushing the top rung, arguments forming in his head. He hears voices. Thor and Frigga appear at the top of the stairs, laughing together, and their smiles cause his momentum to disperse. The arguments fizzle out and he pulls his legs up.

He can’t bring himself to do it. _I’m too weak then,_ he thinks, but the real reason is that he loves them too much. Even if they do ignore him, hurt him, he still cares too much to tell them what he really thinks. _Why do I have to care? Why do I have to_ feel _things about them?_ He wishes he didn’t. He wishes that they had never been kind to him, because he owes them kindness in return, and that means that no matter how much he wants to, no matter how _painful_ their existence is to him, he cannot hurt them.

*

The phone rings downstairs. Five rings, and then it’s answered by Odin. Loki can’t hear clearly, but when Frigga takes the phone up to her room he becomes aware it’s the University secretary.

“Yes, yes, I know he’s not been attending every day...” he hears his mother say, and falls back on the floor. It was inevitable. But still, he’d hoped it wasn’t this soon.

“But as far as I’m aware he still goes to all his lectures? And then picks up the work later?” There is a buzzing, as the shrill-voiced secretary tells of the days upon days now since he’s been seen there, each morning appearing to leave the house only to slip back home five minutes later, to feast on snacks and pour over memories again and again.

“Oh. Well, I-I suppose I can vouch for him there...” It begins. The long, drawn out explanation to the secretary about his strange behaviour. When Frigga mentions the word ‘depression’, it makes him wince because that’s not what he would call it. He doesn’t know what he would call it. “I _know_ , Loki always used to be such a lovely boy. Always so happy, and so clever....Yes, he was a model student, wasn’t he? Always getting perfect grades, even if he wasn’t the most sociable of types. Something came up though, shortly after we told him he was adopted, between him and his brother. He and Thor had always been close, of course, so we tried to take it seriously, but it just spiralled out of control. He never used to hold grudges...” She trails off, as if deep in thought.

 _Perfect?_ Loki thinks. _I didn’t want to be perfect. I don’t want you to expect me to be perfect! I only want to be enough. Not some kind of selfless, ingenious superhuman; just enough...enough for him._

But he hasn’t been enough for Thor in a long time.

*

Thor is engaged. He comes home like a happy puppy, and announces it to everyone. Frigga laughs in delight and hugs him. Odin gives him a firm slap on the shoulder, mirth dancing in his eyes. From the doorway, where he stands, Loki watches the happy scene and wonders what it would look like to someone who hadn’t lived with these people all their lives. Perhaps they wouldn’t see the cracks, the little slivers of pain in Thor’s eyes as he glances over at the shadow in the doorway.

“Loki,” he begins, and it takes all the will in the world not to shrink away from him. Loki is trying to be strong, trying to help himself, so he actually steps into the room this time.

“...Congratulations, Thor. I hope you two will be very happy together.” The words are empty, but he puts enough feeling into them to convince their parents, who rapidly leave the room together, already planning the wedding.

“Loki, I have to tell you. She’s...she didn’t want you to know. She doesn’t want you at the wedding. And as of today, I’m banned from seeing you, hearing about you, having any contact with you whatsoever.”

It gets difficult to breathe in the room, the walls pressing in on all sides, but Loki manages to inhale enough to gulp out a “What?”

“She’s suspicious of you, to be honest. And of your hold over me. She sees the way you look at me - they all do, and I’m surprised our parents haven’t guessed yet. She’s quite a jealous person, Loki,” Thor tries to reason, but it’s hard to explain what exactly made him agree to all this when he can see right in front of him the last glimmer of light in Loki’s eyes fade.

“And you just _let her_? Let her say that?”

“I-Yes, I did. I think it’s for the best.”

“And has she seen the way _you_ look at _me_?” It’s his last defence, but it’s a weak argument - yes, Thor used to look at him in a way that made him shiver, but now the part of his brother that was Loki’s is gone, banished away to the heart of some selfish ungrateful woman, and any hope Loki had of them getting over this is thwarted, crushed like an ant under a boot.

Thor doesn’t reply. He only pulls Loki into a tight hug, brushing a hand up and down his back, and pulls away after not long enough, nowhere near long enough, with what Loki could have sworn was the lightest of dustings of lips across his cheek.

He hears his brother explain the situation to their parents, and then the front door close.

 _It’s over, then,_ Loki thinks, fist clenching. _It’s all over. Well, there’s no use waiting any more._

So he begins to let go at last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved doing this, and I'm sorry it ended so soon, but the ending fits. Personally I wanted a happy ending. Loki and Thor's fiancée decided otherwise.

It’s like the sky has cleared. Loki passes his degree with a first and also gets himself a part-time job and some work experience. He goes out with friends for drinks, attends all his mother’s parties, and arranges a fair few himself. Neither Frigga nor Odin can quite figure out what changed in him, but it’s like a light switch has been turned on inside him and he’s back to his former shining glory. They do realise that it’s got something to do with Thor’s absence however, since their eldest hasn’t been home since he became a fiancé six months ago. Frigga is desperate to help with the wedding plans, of course, but she knows when to be wary, and is conscious it is important to retain the fragile balance required to keep Loki functioning again and appease the mysterious ‘lady’ as she is known. She isn’t exactly sure _why_ Thor’s fiancée is requesting him to stay away from his family - if it were Frigga in that situation she would have to call it off, because it’s a level of possessiveness that is definitely out of order, but if Thor’s happy then she’s happy, and she is allowed to visit on occasion, as long as no conversation is directed towards her family life now.

Loki has taken on a PhD to follow his other degrees, and is rapidly flying through the course, as well as finding time to attend suave parties as he climbs his way up the social ladder, meeting people through teachers and fellows as he begins to befriend those of a higher class. It delights his mother to no end, because they suddenly find they share acquaintances and the events they hold become all the more exciting. It seems he’s entirely moved on and mention of his brother is no longer taboo; instead the three of them joke about what he might be doing now, or what the ‘lady’ is planning for the inevitable wedding none of them are certain of being invited to.

Loki even stuck his nose through the door of Titanium two weeks ago, to be greeted by Cara and Dave with hesitant smiles.

“Oh, aren’t you Thor’s ex?” she’d asked, and he’d nodded, enquiring after his ‘ex’ in return.

“He’s on holiday in the Canaries, I think,” Dave had answered, and Loki had tried to retain his calm demeanour whilst struggling to comprehend why Thor would just take off to the Canary Islands without so much as a phone call. “Him and his new girlfriend, they left on Tuesday. Why’d you ask?”

Loki mumbled an excuse and hurried out the shop, wondering if his parents knew but hadn’t told him. Maybe it was all part of the mysterious fiancée’s obsession with keeping Loki out of their lives.

*

It comes to Christmas again, a full year since that dreadful time of Loki’s darkest hours, and of course he does still have the photos, the drawings and the letter, but he looks at them less frequently. Only in the small hours of the morning, after he’s come home a little drunk from an evening down the pub, and no longer has the inhibitions to restrain himself, or in the brief spells of darkness that snap back to haunt him every now and then does he take them out and remember.

He’s helped Frigga with the party, including sending an invite to Thor, which they expected to be declined. So it comes as a surprise when the reply is posted through the door, a roughly scrawled note explaining he _will_ be coming, and that the girlfriend will be visiting her aunt for their own Christmas do, and he hates her aunt so he’s supposed to be out with some old school friends, but he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Loki is dressed in a sharp black suit and deep purple shirt; his mother is in a festive white dress with blue accents. Odin is in a slightly untidier suit, but still has an air of sophistication about him that only comes with being in the presence of a great artist. The three of them flit about, and Frigga can’t help but notice how a large portion of the gossip is turned towards Loki, towards how glamorous he looks now, how professional, and how much he’s changed since last year - but this is only said once the silver-tongued young man has travelled off to another room to speak with a different acquaintance or to offer some more wine.

As with the year before, Thor arrives late and a guest answers the door. This time, instead of a surprised explosion of sound there are more whispers, because the rumours have spread that Thor is living with a fanatical obsessive and mentally unstable woman who has banned him from seeing his family. Frigga and Odin greet him warmly with hugs, but Loki chooses to stay in conversation with one of his professors, deciding that two can play at this game.

Thor is constantly searching for his brother, but he has to look relaxed about it, because there’s already enough being said about both him and Loki, particularly concerning his disappearance and Loki’s return to health. He catches sight of him in the dining room, and approaches slowly, passing snippets of small talk to other guests as he goes, but only really focusing on his brother. Loki looks dazzling, all slick smiles and grace and elegance and it makes Thor wonder if they were the same person, this socially skilled young man before him, making all the girls laugh, and the gaunt, haggard shell of a human he’d picked up from the floor of the landing only a year ago. It makes him boil with anger and at the same time glow with pride because his brother was beautiful again, just the way he loved him.

He knows Loki’s noticed him, and also knows his brother is making an effort not to talk to him, always moving on to speak with someone else, putting another person between them. When one particular young man clinks his glass with Loki, and then brushes his arm, Thor feels his stomach tighten, and watches suspiciously as Loki turns another brilliant smile at his companion before his gaze wanders to meet Thor’s. His grin falters, and Thor detects a stab of longing there before it is glossed over again and any insight into his brother’s feelings are lost.

It is strange, to see Loki so well again - he expected him to be worse, or at least the same as before. Loki is not a quitter, but he likes to push any conviction or hope deep down so it appears as if he has no reason to continue. He knows Loki would not have given up trying to restore himself like he had been when he’d announced his engagement, but he also expected Loki to shroud his attempts in hatred because Thor was proving to be exactly as he’d said before - unable to hate enough to love him. What burns more though is that Loki is not just well, he is _better_ , better than he was before all this happened. Before their relationship began Loki had never really had friends, but now he has seemingly hundreds and it hurts to think that it was _Thor_ who was stopping this.

The young man touches his brother’s arm again and Thor twitches with jealousy. Loki looks at him again, this time with a smug smile because he _knows_ how much this will hurt Thor and it’s all he deserves. Loki glides over, and lays a hand on Thor’s shoulder, bringing his mouth close to Thor’s ear, and it takes all his composure not to take Loki’s hand or _something_ , to claim him back as Thor’s own. But of course he can’t, because they are in public and because he had his chances to remedy things and instead he chose to push forward and end things completely, nearly at the cost of his brother himself.

“Yes, it’s quite a change, isn’t it? I’ve grown my shell back, all shiny and new, and I’m ready to face the world, and to top it,” he whispers in Thor’s ear, making it look like just a brotherly kiss on the cheek, a greeting. “I dare you,” he says, louder this time, challenging the others to listen in and contribute; thoroughly succeeding in humiliating Thor for showing his jealousy in public. “I dare you to break this one, _brother_. I _dare_ you to throw yourself against it and try to smash it down, like you did with the last one, and then once you fail,” his voice drops down again, soft and low and dangerous. “Once you fail, you can spit your pathetic suffering at me like you would the blood from your mouth, and you can watch it bounce back and burn you, because I am _above_ you now, and I no longer need you.”

He saunters off to join his friends again, leaving Thor standing there and staring at him. The older man turns from the room with shame burning his cheeks, hurrying up the stairs to Loki’s attic.

*

As the party dies down, Loki heads upstairs to refresh himself, hopping up the ladder to grab his comb. Once in his room, he sees Thor sitting on the bed and stills, because his brother is practically pulsing with rage.

“Loki,” he begins, and the darker man cocks an eyebrow, wondering what on earth Thor wants to talk about.

“Who is that man, that you were drinking with?” Loki smiles wickedly - he knew Thor would ask. He knew Thor would be jealous, even though he has no reason to be, no _right_ to be, not after what he did.

“Not jealous, are we, Thor?” he responds, deciding to be blunt about it. “Oh, we _are_ , aren’t we? I see why you went along with what your woman wanted of you now - you’re just as bad yourself, are you not? Just as possessive. You know you have no right to be jealous over me, though, don’t you? You have no _right_ ,” he spits the word like it’s poison, “No _right_ to be jealous, because if you wanted me, you could have had me, but no, you had to end it, you had to call it off because we were _brothers_ , even though we’re not really; you had to _sell me out_ and dispose of me to keep your own self pure. I think it’s disgusting. I think you’re disgusting, to still desire me after all this time, your own _brother._ ”

“You’re one to talk, brother. I know you-”

Loki wags a finger and tuts. “ _I_ never denied that I _did_ , Thor. But I am allowed to be. Never once did I try to stop loving you. Never once did I try to push you away. Never once did I think we were wrong. And now _you_ think that you can just walk in here, and everything will be back to how it was, and it’ll al be OK because I’ll be waiting for you to take me back, all smiles and hugs and kisses and tattoos.” Thor flinches, because he realises even now Loki refuses to let the issue of the tattoo die. “Well that’s not how it works, Thor. You get a fiancée. She bars you from seeing me, hearing about me, even acknowledging my existence. So I move on. I get friends. I get halfway to getting a partner. You cannot come back and just _expect_ me to throw away all that I have built because _you_ managed to sneak an evening away from her _._ What did you want to happen, for us to have a one-night stand to satisfy the part of you that still wants me and then you can walk away a happy man, knowing at last you got to have me and now you can marry your ‘lady’ and lock yourself away because you’re complete? I’m not going to allow you that satisfaction. You never needed my help. I won’t listen to your pleas, or your attempts at apology, because you ran away and hid yourself; you’re just the same as everyone else and you know it. You’re scared. You lie, cheat, and manipulate to get what you want, but everyone goes along with it because you’re perfect, the perfect first son, the perfect brother, the perfect lover - you lie to keep control of your sordid affairs, but even angels can fall from grace, and when you did you just buried it in more and more lies, by hiding yourself away and telling yourself you want to marry a woman you hate. You’re a coward, Thor, and you care too much.”

He snatches up his comb and goes to the bathroom, smoothing his hair down with a smirk on his face and listening  
as his brother leaves his room, hurrying down the stairs and then the sounds of Thor’s deep rumbling voice asking for the stiffest drink they have. Loki glides down the stairs, composed completely and into the warm embrace of the crowd. He shares a few more conversations, all the while watching Thor become drunker and drunker as he tries to forget all he has just heard, the truth burning him and shaming him beyond reckoning. Loki just watches the chaos unfold around him, smooth smile plastered to his face and a sense of satisfaction spreading throughout his chest because he’s finally _won_.

*

Thor becomes sleepy, so Odin calls him a taxi and as he informs the driver of the address of Thor’s shared house with his fiancée, Loki helps his brother stumble to the door. There is still a spark of lucidity in Thor’s eyes, the drink not completely obscuring sense, and Loki takes advantage of the moment to place a brief parting kiss on Thor’s lips, eyes closing to savour the moment because he knows it will be the last. Thor looks at him in surprise once it’s done, and begs with his eyes for some sincerity to be put into the moment. Loki allows him a brief glimpse at the pain he still feels, allowing it to surface for a brief moment while he embeds the last kiss into his memory, and Thor looks all the more distraught, but then Loki smiles again, so wide it looks almost cruel.

“ _My_ love was punished long ago, Thor,” he murmurs as he helps his brother hobble into the waiting car. “If you still care, don’t ever let me know.”

 


End file.
